The Rains of Castamere
by NanoBlade
Summary: Telling the untold tale of how the Golden Lion of Casterly Rock destroyed the House Reyne of Castamere. Major spoilers for the Season 4 finale, and strictly follows the show, and not the books. Even though I love the books. Rated T for blood, gore, and any other subject matter.


**A/N: Hello! For those who haven't read my work before, I mainly do work on an OC story for How I Met Your Mother. But I started this when I was listening to the song a lot, and thought of how the destruction of House Reyne actually happened. Also huge spoilers for the Season 4 finale "The Children". And to those who read my work already, my next part of my HIMYM story is coming very soon.**

Mottos and words. They are the blood and heart of the houses of Westeros. We say these words to warn others of what we represent, should any fight. When you speak the words of your house, why do you say them? Is it because you truly believe them? Or is it because you were raised to know the promises made by the other houses in their mottos, but you don't understand that they aren't anything much more than words.

But the sayings of houses are, like titles given to knights, things that must be earned, not given. Just because you have a sigil, a family, and just because you have loyalty to your king, doesn't make you anywhere closer to earning a motto. Not every house deserves that honor. I brought back what my house was missing for years, and in the process began a new common phrase uttered by many in Westeros: a Lannister always pays his debts.

* * *

Rebellions don't start overnight. It's a cannon just waiting to fire. Slowly but surely it must fill with powder until it is ready to explode. House Reyne envied us for as long as they were loyal to us, because Lannisters were the wealthiest house in all the Seven Kingdoms, and the Reynes were known for being the second. Unfortunatley, no soul wants to settle for being second place. That is the only ambition for which I can respect House Reyne, though they were still fools. They thought of us as weak, and perhaps they were right. My father, Tytos was spiraling our family into a financial turmoil with his idiotic investments and debts, but then came Syrd Reyne and his wife Issera. With my house on the verge of bankrupsy, and our grasp on the West in the midst of weakening, they began to show off with their wealth. I saw once, in the months before the rebellion, how at tournaments Issera Reyne wore the finest jewels around her neck to show her husband's wealth. Before that, they had started to erect a castle as large and as proud as Casterly Rock. Something that my father saw as no threat, but then came the real rebellion. An open rebellion was on the move from the red lions of House Reyne. Something which I, a golden lion of House Lannister, would not stand for.

""Lord Tywin." Said the scout. "The enemy troops have begun preparing the defense of Castamere. What are the orders?"

The Reynes, they never saw what I was capable of. They only saw my father, the old lion, not noticing the young lion with claws ready to fight.

"We attack." I said, looking down at the maps. "The Reynes want a rebellion, and they shall have it. But they will pay the debts they owe us."

The walls around Castamere were large and tall, and no doubt the Reynes expected us to try to climb them. So, I prepared the troops for just that. The boats, which stood at port close to Casterly Rock, would be used as shields as we would charge in the main gate.

The castle was large. About half the height and size as the Red Keep. The large silver banners draped the very foundation of the castle, showing the roaring red lion of the House Reyne. It stood tall and proud, but not with the kind of pride that the Lannisters possessed.

"Once the gates are broken in, kill every soul you find, but leave the Reynes alive. I want to see them suffer first."

"Yes, Lord Tywin." Said Ser Emunt, one of my most trusted knights. "It will be done."

I made my way out of the tents, looking out towards the Halls of Castamere. It would soon burn for their so-called rebellion. "This night will be remembered as the Death of House Reyne."

* * *

Getting into the Halls was not difficult, yet it was a challenge to face the troops. They held their ground when we burst through, and I found myself charging past my own troops into the gates, slashing through the neck of a younger knight. The blood spilled out of his mouth and neck like the waterfalls in the mountains. He clutched his neck, the shattered remains of his collarbone sticking out. He houldn't have been any older than twenty five. He wouldn't see the end of this summer.

"Lord Tywin!"

I turned and Ser Asol Reyne's fist greeted me in return. I was facing the head of the town's guard, and I groaned after gathering my bearings, tired of having to face the most incompetent of opponents every time. Why wouldn't my enemies at least offer me some sort of challenge?

"You may be of a greater house than us, Lannister." Said Asol. "But we are just as fearsome as you."

Ser Emunt, noticing my fighting across the battle, weaved his way in and out, dodging swords and other guards, taking precautions not to be heard by Asol.

"Is that so?" I retorted. "The little red lion of Reyne wants to play with it's Lord. Let me show you what happens when you rouse the golden lion from his sleep."

Emunt yelled out as he swung his sword through the air. But he was too slow. Asol spun around and held his sword high against the oncoming attack, sparks flying from his parry. I took the opportunity to catch Asol off his guard.

"You think I can't take two lions at once?!" He shouted out. "I could slaughter you as easily as twenty pigs!"

He roared like the lion that he longed to be, and rained his sword down onto mine. His precision in the fight was of high skill and grace, but it still proved inferior to the fighters that myself and Emunt were.

When Asol started another flurry of attacks, I dove downwards under his slash, and ran my sword into his kneecap. I pushed my sword down in such an angle as he cried out in pain, that his kneecap burst out with his blood and entrails.

Emunt grabbed Asol in a headlock, and pulled him down to the ground. I placed my foot hard on his chest, daring him to give me a reason to take the other knee.

Asol still looked at me with fury, no matter how much pain and fear he truly was feeling.

"I'm not afraid, Lannister. House Reyne will become the new Warden of the West."

"You have neither the strength, nor the willpower to hold such a position!" I replied. I held my sword up towards the purple night sky. It glowed with the fires that were beginning to burn around the city.

Asol looked up in fear, seeing me for what he should have the minute House Reyne decided to defy us: the lion with fury. He heard me roar.

The other knights with Asol watched as their leader, the one who rallied them into battle, led them to defiance, and ultimately inspired them to do their deeds get his throat split open by my hands. The blood poured over in a shade of the finest Valariyen red wine, and felt the same heat as the hearth of Casterly Rock. It still disgusted me to feel the blood of a traitor's stain my hands. The other Lannister troops roared in response and began slicing through the rest of our enemies, for victory would soon be ours.

* * *

The Halls of Castamere proved to be very challenging to breach. The Reynes spent their coin well trying to look like us, but to truly understand how to look like us, one must _be _us, a luxury that no amount of coin could ever buy. Even if something as simple as matrimony could do such a thing, it would never be as true as being a real Lannister of Casterly Rock.

The Halls were large and twisting. Simple mazes to navigate through to even find your own chambers. But I knew that Lord Syrd Reyne wouldn't be in his chamber. I knew what kind of lion he was, and I would show him why he shouldn't have tried to pretend to be another.

The air was warm, dense, and smelled of the perfumes made by Valaryian hands. The most expensive one could find in Westeros. Not even Lannisters used it, for the smell was quite nauseating for my father.

The throne room's doors were massive. One word from me was all it took for them to set up the battering ram to kick it in.

"When the doors open, only I am to go inside. Anyone else tries, and they will wish they hadn't. This is my fight."

The troops nodded in response. Emunt called out his commands to them. "Get that door open, boys. It'll be drinks all around tonight for those who can get it open."

I heard voices on the inside. They were preparing to mount their last defense against us. Our spies told us that if they would resort to a defense like this, archers would be waiting along with the normal guards, which was nothing I couldn't handle alone.

The loud cracking and large splinters flying sideways told us that the doors were only a few hits away from breaking.

"Lord Tywin?" said Ser Ermunt.

"HEAVE, HO!"

"What is it?" I said, preparing myself, my shield with the gold lion on a blood red field ready to go.

"What happens if you don't make it out?"

"HEAVE, HO!" That last hit caused a much louder crack. One more would do it.

"What if Lord Reyne kills you?"

"Then you may personally allow the Reynes to turn Casterly Rock into a cursed brothel."

"HEAVE…HO!" The last hit made such a loud sound; it was as if the doors were infused with dragonbone.

The flaming arrows shot out like flying devils, and I raised my shield up as I slid past them. A clean cut through the air took off the heads of three archers. The rest weren't given the chance to even turn away as they met the same fate as their fallen brothers.

"It's Tywin! Gut him open!" roared the voice of Lord Syrd.

I could only laugh. The only guts spared tonight would be mine, and his, with all the rest counting as fair game. I would not kill Lord Reyne, until I would personally make him watch, as I would make his house crumble down, restoring the ferocity of the lion.

Only five remained of his guards. I looked back to see that every troop of House Lannister had kept their promise, I would be facing this battle alone, the way I had intended on it.

The first man made the mistake of swinging his sword against me early. I replied by crouching down, sliding behind him, and then running my sword right through his back. The second was smarter, playing it defensively. I struck several blows on him, but he defended each one with careful precision. A good potential addition to us, if only he hadn't chosen the wrong side. The third one tried to overwhelm me with both of them, and they both met the end of my sword like two chickens on a spit. The fourth and fifth both looked at me hesitantly, and then dropped their weapons. If only I was taking prisoners that night, but they weren't Reynes.

* * *

All five of the remaining guards lay at my feet in a bloody, mangled mess. The pool of blood was deep as the loyalty that Syrd Reyne had shown for us. He looked at me with fear and anger.

"You could have spared them." He said. "We could have forgiven you for your ruthlessness."

"You forget Reyne, that you struck first. You wanted to be as powerful as Lannisters, but you forgot an important lesson."

Reyne sat up straight in his throne. "Which is?"

I leapt forward, plunging a dagger into his hand. It embedded so deep into his throne's arm that I knew there would be no way to get it out. Reyne screeched loud and hard as the ravens that resided in the North.

"Here's a lesson for the one who wanted to defeat us. Hear these words, and understand them: a Lannister always pays his debts. If you wanted to be as powerful as us, you should have learned that, but now you owe me a blood debt, and one way or another," I grabbed him by the throat. "You will pay it."

* * *

Ser Ermunt and his men rounded up the Reynes, and led them towards the outer ends of the Halls of Castamere.

It was hard to get Syrd out, but one managed to cut the arm of the throne off. Syrd stumbled out with his family, the wooden arm appearing as an extra club in his hand. One red with his blood.

One of my troops found that there was a small stockpile of Wildfire, only two dozen kegs, but it would be enough to level Winterfell.

"Hand one to me, and to any other volunteers that wish to see this place burn to the ground."

"Right away, sir."

The green liquid spilled out, bleeding along the floors of the throne room. I had heard once from my father that Wildfire was rumored to be the blood of the dragons. The Targaryens were obsessed with using both dragons and Wildfire. In a way, they had helped me ensure my victory.

The path of Wildfire led all around the halls, over the drawbridge, and then back to the Lannister camp. I held a torch high in the air as the Reynes looked on. Syrd, Issera, their three children that I never bothered to learn the names of, and a number of his relatives. Anyone with the name Reyne stood before me. There was no one absent from this historical turning point.

"Hear Me Roar! The words of House Lannister!" I cried. "The Reynes were indeed the first who dared to defy us, but they will also be the last! Any house that says otherwise will be brought the same fate!"

I knelt down beside Syrd. "Can you see this, Reyne?" I pointed out towards his home. "This is what awaits anyone foolish enough to follow you. But even seeing your place burn to the ground is not enough."

I stood up, walking towards his children. A boy of ten, and two twin girls of thirteen.

"My father says he adores each of his children with equal attention? I know that that is not true. He will favor me after I restore House Lannister's glory. Now who is it that you care for the most?"

I pulled a dagger out and, grabbed his son by the neck. Issera screamed every curse imaginable to me, with Syrd roaring at me to spare him.

"Is it your son? Do you care for him the most?"

Reyne would not give me any response besides "Spare him." In all that confusion, I saw him glancing at one of his daughters. I grabbed her and he screamed louder.

"Then it's your daughter." I said. "Excellent. Come with me, young lady."

She whimpered and cried as I walked her back towards the Halls.

"Are you going to kill me?" She said.

"Indeed." I replied.

"…Good."

I was surprised. "Is that so?"

The little girl looked up at me. "You're going to destroy our castle, and our house. I could never live any longer if the only world I've known was taken from me."

"Then you are a true noble of Westeros. May the gods forgive you and your family, for I know I never will."

I had her sit down right on the path of green. Already her sitting on it causes smoke to start rising from the green stained ground. The Reynes could see me from afar, screaming to both me and the gods to stop this madness.

As I reentered the camp, Ser Ermunt handed me a torch.

"You said you have claws as sharp as my own, Syrd. Now you owe your debt. And now you will pay it."

The Reynes could do nothing but cry out in despair as I lowered the torch to the ground, the path of green fire lighting up, melting the girl that sat there. She screamed in pain, standing up as the ropes burned, along with her. She flew down the hill, towards the halls, hoping to stop burning when she reached the moat. They lit up in a massive display of green light.

"You monster!" cried Syrd. "Damn you to the depths of all the seven Hells of Westeros! The gods will never forgive you!"

"This is not something that you don't deserve!" I thundered back. "House Reyne was the first to defy us, but I will make sure that they are the last. Never think of any Lannisters, young and old, as fools that can be easily defeated with a few troops and a couple dozen kegs of Wildfire. None shall defy us and live!"

* * *

I watched as I personally took each of the Reynes, and slit their throats. Did they bleed out, or choke on their blood? I don't remember. The Reynes bones were hung outside the gates of Casterly Rock, and remained there until the first signs of the winter came from the North. Now what remained of them rot at the bottom of the Sunset Sea. How the years pass after the rains still weep. None remain of the red lion on the silver field. My services towards the House Lannister were honored by not only my father, but King Aerys II Targaryen. He had me named Hand of the King in a few years, and after my father's demise, I became both Lord of Casterly Rock, and Warden of the West. My name is Tywin Lannister, and the Rains weep because of me.

* * *

"I can't go back there."

"Oh, you afraid of a dead whore?"

The winged blade sliced through the doorway from the crossbow, and pierced right through my chest. The pain surged through me, and I could hardly believe it. Yet, there it was right there: one single crossbow bolt sticking out of my chest. Shot by my own drunken disappointing dwarf of a son.

"…You shot me!" I strained in disbelief. Me, the Golden Lion, killed an imp in my own home, in the worst room possible. I looked up at him, already pulling the lever on the bow, readying to fire a second shot.

My hands hesitated to try to pull it out. I wasn't positive that I could get it out, if by some miracle a guard happened to find Tyrion right here and now. But I knew one more shot would finish me off. I tugged at the arrow, but the pain was too unbearable to try. I could already feel the boiling hot red water start to seep out of the hole in my chest.

I looked up, Tyrion holding the bow up to shoot me again. I growled with the fury of the seven hells.

"You are no son of mine!" I breathed.

The imp didn't even blink. "I am your son." He said. "I have always been your son."

My last breaths were drawn in the next few moments as the second blade flung out of the bow.

* * *

"And who are you the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?

Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know.

In a coat of gold, or a coat of red, a lion still has claws.

And mine are long and sharp my lord, as long and sharp as yours.

And so he spoke, and so he spoke. That Lord of Castamere. But now the rains weep o'er his halls, with no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o'er his halls and not a soul to hear."


End file.
